


In My End You Were My Begining

by annetheseamaiden



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Multi, No Incest, and at a point explicit, of family, the proper rating would also be teen meets mature, the relationship tags means as in relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:57:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annetheseamaiden/pseuds/annetheseamaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last months of the reign of RIII narrated through the eyes of Elizabeth of York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Death of a Queen:

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter shifts from Elizabeth, Cecily, Anne and finally to Richard. On the next chapter it will be more focused

She was not maltreated. Under her uncle’s care she was respected. She was dressed, fed, and educated. Still, she maintained a distance. Bastard or not, she was born a princess, meaning that she had royal blood running through her veins. ****

It is completely true that she felt betrayed. It was a betrayal. Her Father, her gentle father who was clearly not perfect in some affairs trusted his always loyal younger brother with his last breath. Her brothers were put under her Uncle’s care to be kept safe but they disappeared. She did not know who to blame.  Was she to blame her Mother? She grew paranoid and took sanctuary. She grew to think that back then, Richard of Gloucester would try to rule through her son. Was she to blame her uncle? She remember that he swore to keep them safe. Was his goal to in reality protect the princes? She did not know.

Nevertheless, she lived day by day. She did not know what the future held for her. Was she to be a Queen, a princess, or a simple lady or mistress? She did not know. Nevertheless, she did her duty to her uncle’s queen. She bend her knee to Queen Anne. She did as Queen Anne requested. Still, every morning she reminded herself who she was.

_I am Elizabeth Plantagenet—Elizabeth of York. I am a Princess of York. The first York Princess. I am strong. I am my Mother’s flesh and my Father’s blood. I am strong. I am York. York is me._

_“I am York.” She said in a whisper, “York is me!”_

Her sister Cecily looked at her, “Did you say something sister?”

Elizabeth shook her head as she rose from her cushioned stool. She had been reading a book that the King, her uncle gave to her so she could pass her time and learn something.

Their attending ladies came in and dressed them.

Shift made of soft linen, bodice of velvet, and a matching gown of silver, and beige damask. It was the same fabric that the king had given to Queen Anne for Christmas celebration. The attending ladies laced their mistresses, and then Cecily and Elizabeth’s  day started. Cecily combed the Queen’s coopery hair, while Elizabeth washed the queen’s dainty hands.

The queen was gravely ill. The death of her son made her fall in a dark hole. That morning, she seemed like every day since. Alike her, Elizabeth had realized that as queen, Anne lived day by day. What an awful thing must be to be the Queen of England. Yes it had its blessings. But it also caused pain. She saw it on her mother, and now on Anne.

“Should I braid your hair, Your Grace?” Cecily asked.

“Leave it loose.” Queen Anne said in a hoarse whisper.

Cecily looked at her sister.

“The ladies have taken out the violet velvet dress, milady.” Elizabeth said as she dried her Aunt and Queen’s hand. “Does it please you or not?”

Queen Anne still dressed to her station. She was sick, but she tried to serve her role as queen. She wanted to look as a queen would look, even though she rested in her bed.

“Should either one of us send for His Grace?” Cecily asked, “Do you wish to have him take breakfast with him?”

Anne nodded. Cecily spoke to one of Anne’s servants and word was sent to the king.

Elizabeth finished lacing the Queen’s gown and kept reading. When the king entered, he asked them to leave. Cecily wondered what they did. It was known around the court that the physician recommended to Richard not to bed her. 

“The probably talk.” Elizabeth said, “Or he may feed her. Like Papa used to do to our mother.”

Cecily heard a noise which she did not pay attention to. Then Elizabeth heard coughing. Then both head a commotion. Fine porcelian falling, and shattering, and their Uncle’s voice filled with terror calling for help. Elizabeth came to her feet and opened the door. Cecily followed her, and alike her sister, she gasped at the sight. 

King Richard on his knees. His dark curls reflecting the panic in his dark blue eyes. His white undershirt damp with blood. Queen Anne’s resting in his, blood on her not so voluptuous lips. Both girls stood before the sight. A man, cleaning the blood from his wife’s lips with his bare hands as if it was not blood. As if it was spilled wine without disgust.

The words that came out from the king’s mouth were harsh and cruel.

“Do not stand there like a pair of useless bystanders. Use your heads. Send for the physician.”

Cecily was the one who snapped out of it first. She bended her knees and ran out, yelling for aid while Elizabeth stood there like an ice sculpture. 

Was her life to be of blood, sickness, and death?

Richard had taken hold of the queen, and carried her to her bed. When the physician came, he spoke with frankness. It would be a work of the Holy Spirit for Queen Anne to be healthy again.

The days. Days became week, and weeks became months. Queen Anne no longer had the stregnth to be bothered for dressing. She spend her days and nights dressed in her shifts.

***

March 16th, 1485

Cecily looked at the queen with eyes full of pity. A few days before, Anne hd share that to be a woman in a man’s world was indeed hard and dangerous. The rose and fell from grace in a blink of an eye, and that to be high was more of a curse than a blessing. Elizabeth had realized that it was truth. She was born in a golden crib. Now she was far from it. 

That day started like any other. The king’s sanity was held by a single thread— his wife and his queen. Such devotion Elizabeth realized must be a curse. To love someone who was clearly near the reach of death must be like waiting for your own death.

That day, Cecily wanted to read. She allowed her sister to read. She was neither in the mood for reading. Her head still ached from the night before when Cecily in her sleep smashed her head against hers. 

Elizabeth listened to her sister, while she looked at the window. There was something different in the sky. The sun looked weird. 

“Lady Anne?” Elizabeth asked, “Something very odd but certainly curious is happening. The sun, Your Grace, is disappearing in mid day!”

With what remained of her strength, the Queen of England looked towards her eighteen year old niece. From the queen’s angle, nothing was visible, but she could a little bit of darkness.

“There is something in the sun.”

Queen Anne closed her eyes, and she went to sleep. The two ladies in her chamber looked at sun mesmerised. It was a haunting but yet appealing sight. Did it mean something?

Cecily jumped when the door swung open. It was the King whose breathing was out of pace.

“Anne! Have you seen the sun?” King Richard asked.

The queen sleep was interrupted by her husband’s voice. She opened her eyes only to see a blurry sight before it became sharp. The room was still dark, and he ordered his nieces to wait outside.

Queen Anne wanted to whisper something but she did not have any strength to speak. Instead, she moved her index finder when she, miraculously raised her hand to call for her husband who ran towards her.

“Are you cold?” He asked her rushing to her side.

“Ned.” 

“What?” He asked. Her whisper was barely heard by him.

“Ned and Bella!” Anne screeched when he took her hands.

“Ned and Bella? What about them?” Richard asked when he realized that she had stopped talking, “Anne?”

“Anne!”

Her breathing now was still weak, but she was still breathing. Seeing her like this was horrible. Today she seemed weaker than any other day.

“Will you hug me like you used to do?” Anne asked in a whisper. Richard’s eyes were wet with tears. He looked at her with his quivering lip and nodded.

“Who am I to say not to the Queen of England?”

“The King of England.” Queen Anne whispered.

He buried his head in the curve of her neck which had the faint smell of lavender from the night before. Her body was warm and sweaty. He did not mind. He gave her gently along her clavicle before pecking her lips.

“You’ll get well, my love. I am sure of that.” He said as he kissed her cheek then her forehead, “I am sure of that.”

Now, he rested his head in her chest like in their first years of marriage after long hours of love-making while she caressed his hands. Instead of his hands, Anne stroke his little finger. Her heart was beating, hardly beating. Just hearing it made him feel relieved. 

When the sun came back, she was still alive, until she wasn’t.

When he realized what had happened, he rose from her chest and looked at her. The sunlight illuminated her. Her blue eyes were still open. They still had a glimmer, but they looked lifeless.

_“This is impossible!_ ” Richard thought, “Anne, you were just talking to me. You were just stroking my little finger.”

“Anne?”

He shook his head.

“Anne!”

A tear came down from his right eye falling to her left cheek. He called her again, but the woman was now gone. She had left behind her earthly vessel. The King of England would not have that. He pulled the body of his wife to him and hugged her. Alike with his son, he commanded her to breath. But what he had commanded did not happened. 

He groaned in pain. No war wound was as painful as this was. She was alive not two minutes before. Now she not. He held her tightly. He held her so tight that if she was alive, her pearly skin would have bruises. He did not want to let her go.

The King of England called for the physician. The late queen’s ladies heard his cry for help and the physician came. He placed a mirror before the mouth and nose of the queen too see if air came out but it did not.

The Queen of England had died. She was dead and there was no doubt. Richard shook his head. She was not dead. She was just sleeping. He shook his head. She just spoke and it had tired her. He corrected the physician by saying that he had felt a movement, and told him to do the examination again.

This time, Richard of England realized what had happened. The grabbed the physician’s mirror and smashed it to the floor. His friend, Lovell, tried to calm him down but he shook him off telling them all to go while he held his wife’s lifeless body in his arms. His head was near hers when he yelled once more for them to go.

Neither of them, Elizabeth or Cecily had seen such thing. Men were supposed to be strong and not to have weaknesses. Was his weakness was his wife? His face looked like one of a mad man. Insanity. Madness . . . it was something dark. To Elizabeth it was more of a monster that had awoken from its sleep.

“GO!” He yelled. The common people left, but neither did the once Princesses of York nor did Francis moved.

“I said go!” He said looking at Francis, then at his nieces, “GO!”

He couldn’t let go of her. He couldn’t. She was always by his side. He crowned her besides him. He had made it to that day because of her. She was his sanity and alike her both were now gone.

In his head, he had the memory of a eight year old Anne to whom he snatched her wooden doll and hid for two days until she spoke to him. Then of a sixteen year old Anne. When he first laid with her. Her red and luscious hair falling down in cascades, covering her shoulders and breasts while she sat in his lap caressing his hair while she spoke of their also now dead son.

He shook his head. She was so alive back then. How could she now be dead? She was the same woman that back then. She was healthy. He always cared for her health. He was careful. Anne was not a weak woman, but she had become one ever since the death of her son.

Did she died of grief? Did she felt unloved? Was she hurt by the rumours of the court? The whispers were that he had been poisoning her so he could wed his niece Elizabeth. 

Did does rumours stole her from him? She pulled her towards him. Her eyes were still open. The glimmer had disappeared. No life, no light. They were dead.

He began to cry loudly this time. It could be heard from outside the chamber. The King of England begging the Holy Spirit to give him back his wife. His kingdom for his wife. His life for hers.

Elizabeth wondered why did the life of kings and queens were plagued by tragedies. First was her brother George, then her sister Mary, her Father, and the possible death of her brothers. She would give everything not to be queen if it meant this pain.

 


	2. Chapter 2

There had been some whispers that her Uncle the King had been planning to marry her now. That she had poisoned Queen Anne.

It was nonsense. King Richard found himself disgusted with the rumours and wanted her out. Since his wife was now in heaven, there was no place for her.

In his study, King Richard walked through his chamber. In his company was his friend, Francis who was just letting him cool off as he spoke. 

“She is my niece, Francis!” King Richard yelled, “How can they say that I poisoned Anne? That Bess did it. I cannot— because there is the rumour that I wish to marry her? I saw the girl as a newborn. As a babe, at times I would take her in my arms. While at court Edward would allow her to play in the very same room as we were. I’ve seen her grow as I have seen Katherine grow!”

“I didn’t poison Anne.” Richard cried, “You know I couldn’t. Not her.”

“Richard,” Francis said.There was this distinctive cry in his voice that let him know that his childhood friend meant it. It was his voice, and the way he tilted his head.

“Not her. I couldn’t. I could not do it to her. Not her Francis. Not my Nan.” Richard said as he touched the ring that Anne had given to him. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Why is this happening to me? I am doing what I think it is best for England. First Ned, and now her! And He takes them away from me. Why did He allowed me to become King if my Kingdom, my son, and my beloved wife are dissa—”

Francis stopped him there, “Job. Job lost everything, and then Our Lord gave everything to him back again. Better. Ned’s death was tragic, and now nan’s I don’t know, but you are the King of England, and God wouldn’t do to you if he didn’t have better plans.” 

“I don’t want better. I was a happy man. I want the River’s girl out. I cannot stand her. I want her out by the end of the week. As soon as possible. Send her to the treacherous Lady Stanley. The girl is still betrothed to Tudor, right?”

“Richard, think this—”

There was a sudden rush of different emotions. He felt a lot of anger, sadness, loneliness, guilt. He bolted out of the study and isolated himself in his bedchamber.

There he climbed on the bed, with tears coming down from his eyes. The empty space in his bed killed him. He took the pillow in his arms and buried his face in it. He allowed the pillow to absorb his pain and tears. He did not want to let go. He had not recovered from Ned’s death, and now Anne was gone. She had spoken to him, and she, his sun, was gone and would never rise again.

Now those rumours were traveling from mouth to ear around court. He had poisoned her, they said, so she could marry his own niece; his brother’s golden princess.

He cleaned his face with water, and walked out of his room. He told his chamberlain that he wanted the Elizabeth girl and her sister Cecily away from court.

The chamberlain did his duty, and informed the to girls that arranges had been made for them to leave court by the end of the week.

****

Elizabeth wrapped around her the heavy fur cloak. It was raining, and the winds were chilly. She wondered how her sister Cecily could sleep so easily.Especially after what had happened, which made her realize why wouldn’t her sister be tired.

They say that praying is something spiritual, and that only cleanses your soul. It could also make you tired. Being on your knees praying made her tired. Cecily complained of her back, and knees. Elizabeth’s neck was heavy, but she wasn’t tired. She stood up from the bed, slid her feet into her silk slippers and went to see her cousins, Meg and Teddy.

They were sleeping like little angels. They reminded her of her little sisters whom she missed a lot. She often send their nannies away just so she could play with them. She had been doing that exact same thing with Meg and Teddy. With so many deaths, she had come to enjoy the company of children more now. Children were spontaneous, they were innocent, honest, and when you were kind, they returned that kindness with a smile, and their hand in trust.

There was this day that she longed for. She wanted to have her own children. She wanted to devote herself to them and forget the world of men. She longed for those days of lazy afternoons with her Mother while she chased butterflies. Thinking of that made the once Princess of York, Dauphine of France, fall asleep besides her cousin’s Meg bed. That night, she had two dreams. She dreamt of her Uncle the King. He was falling from himself,the last thread holding his sanity had been cut and he was now spiralling into pure despair and sorrow, but then she found herself in a field of wildflowers and butterflies.

A sudden knock on the door awoke her and told her of the King’s plan for her. She was to go Lady Margaret’s house, and she and Cecily were to be separated. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to be away from Cecily and it was out of her hands. By the end of the week, Mistress Elizabeth found herself in an empty carriage to protect her from the filthy streets, and on her way to Lady Margaret, while she only wished to be with her sister and her Mother. She did not wanted to be separated. The last time they separated, her brothers disappeared. She didn’t want to disappear.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, fuck cannon. Since there is so much filth going around on Elizabeth being a whiny and incestuous brat. I want to make some justice to the first Tudor Queen.


End file.
